Round 1, Fight!
by ShinMarsDragon
Summary: A collection of short ficlets. To be added to as I write more.
1. Mai and King

And I start off with a KoF fic. Pretend this takes place in an eternal '98, because dream match never ends.

* * *

"Oh...oh, that's too bad. Well, if you can't, then you can't. Don't worry about it." King put the phone down, stretched until her back popped, and sighed. "Kasumi can't make it. Her mom got sick, so she's staying home to take care of her."

Beside King, her so-called team leader gave her own massive sigh. "No Kasumi, no Chizuru, no Yuri...everyone's got other plans! How could they do this to us?"

"Well, perhaps if a certain unnamed someone had remembered to account for not having Yuri again, like we haven't for literally years, maybe we wouldn't be calling every single woman fighter we know _the day before registration!_ "

Mai pouted.

King let her head drop to her hands. "All right, all right, no use crying over spilt milk. How about that waitress you mentioned? What's her name...Shang-something?"

"Xiangfei!" Mai's face brightened for half a second before falling again. "No good, I already called her. Said she has a stomachache."

"A stomach...does she know the actual tournament isn't for another month?!"

Mai shrugged. "That's what she said. And something about school? It was pretty loud over in the restaurant, I could hardly make out a word." She idly spun a fan around her fingers as she spoke. "Oh, I wish Yuri hadn't left us. She was so cute and sweet."

"Can't be helped. Once Takuma retired the Kyokugen team needed a third member. And Ryo is her brother."

"He's your boyfriend." King's glare just made a long, slow smile spread across Mai's face. "How _is_ that going, by the by?"

"None of your business." Mai's mouth opened again, but King beat her to the punch. "And I notice you aren't exactly on the Hungry Wolves team."

"Oh, that," Mai tossed her fan in an airy wave. "I prefer the freedom of the Women's team."

"You just like being able to call yourself leader while not doing any of the work," King grumbled, but quietly.

Silence fell across the pair as they stewed, deep in thought.

"...Leona?" Mai threw out, cautiously.

"Will never leave the Ikari Warriors team and you know it," King replied. "How about Blue Mary?"

"Going with Yamazaki and Billy again. You know, I still don't know how that team gets along enough to make it past the preliminaries."

"There are some mysteries better left unsolved," King said with finality.

Mai made a vague noise of agreement. "Oh, but thinking about it...why not Lily?" At King's blank look, she elaborated: "You know, Billy's little sister?"

"...Billy has a little sister?" King blinked. "Billy has a little sister who can fight? How have I never heard of this?"

"Well..." Mai waved her fan again. "She does know bojutsu. She's not as good as Billy, of course, and she doesn't really like fighting, but she's _so_ cute! You'd never believe she and Billy are related! She's got those big, clear blue eyes and long blonde hair and never has a bad word to say about anyone, and-"

"Mai."

"What?"

"The Women's team is _not_ the place to assemble girls you think are cute!"


	2. Terry and Rock

Terry climbed the steps to his apartment, feeling more tired than he had in awhile. That Tizoc sure wasn't a pushover; his back still hurt from that Izu...the drop.

But it had gone to three rounds and Tizoc had barely been able to pull off his big finish, so it wasn't like it was a total loss. The fans had loved it, and Tizoc turned out to be a pretty great guy outside of the ring. Not much point in regretting the past, was there? The aches and bruises were the marks of a good fight. Nothing to be ashamed of.

He hummed to himself as he opened the door, mostly thinking about dinner, and stopped in the doorway when he saw what was inside. Then he threw on his best smile and walked over to the mopey figure on the couch. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you back yet."

"Terry." Rock lifted his head and gave Terry the kind of woebegone look he usually associated with basset hounds. "You too, huh?"

"Yep, happens. Lemme see your face." Terry pushed Rock's bangs out of the way and gave him a once-over. "I don't see signs of a concussion or anything, and looks like you've already got some ice." Rock was going to be wearing a nice set of bruises and a hell of a black eye for the next few days to match the goose egg on his head, but other than that he looked all right. He'd already bandaged his hands, though Terry made a note to redo them more neatly later.

For the hundredth time that year, Terry thanked his lucky stars all the neighbors knew they were martial artists.

Rock had taken the opportunity to do his own check-up on Terry, and came back with: "You look well enough to get your own ice. Anything worse than your face?"

"Ha ha, I'm pretty tough. Don't worry about it," Terry said and regretted it when he couldn't quite hold back the hiss as he plopped onto the couch himself.

"Then what was that just now? Hm?"

"Eh...took a few hits. I'm fine." Rock glared until Terry gave in and took off his jacket. When had the kid gotten so sharp? At least he'd gotten the medics to patch him up a bit at the ring.

Terry put up with Rock's poking and prodding, which just turned up a shrug and "You're not bleeding; good luck sleeping with all those bruises. Nothing broken?"

"Don't think so. Wrestlers know how to land you." His ribs were sore as hell, but that was normal. Terry settled back down, this time being careful of his back, and looked over at Rock. "So, what happened?"

Rock looked down, the miserable expression back on his face. "It was that Kyokugen guy. I almost had him, Terry! We were both reeling, and I-"

"...got desperate and sloppy and left yourself wide open?" Terry grinned as a grouchy look slipped into Rock's moping and knew he was right on the money. "Happens to the best of us, rookie. You can't underestimate Kyokugen. Sure, most slobs can't be bothered to put in the time, but you get a real dedicated katera guy-"

" _Karate_. Ka-ra-te."

"Just what I said. Anyway, you get one of the real hard workers and they're gonna be the best practice in getting your ass kicked you'll ever have. Nothing for it but to pick yourself up and train harder. We'll wait a few days for the bruises to fade and get to work on keeping your head. Maybe go over to the dojo and get you some proper spars in...I'll talk to Ryo." The mopey look was still there, so Terry wrapped his arm around Rock's shoulder, waited through Rock's imitation of an angry cat, and said: "Buck up, kid. I didn't win my first tournament either. Get back up and use this to become stronger, okay?"

"...you won King of Fighters '91."

"Yeah, and it wasn't my first tournament. I started about your age," younger, really, but Terry /really/ didn't want to think about those first few, "entered as many as would have me, and lost almost all of them."

Rock chewed on that for a bit, and Terry could see the idea working through his head better than it had the last few hundred times Terry had said it. Good. Rock was a great fighter, and great fighters needed to eat dirt once in awhile. Kept 'em humble.

"You started about my age..." Rock trailed off, frowned, and tried again. "But this is different. The invitation...my mom..."

Terry was quietly relieved this wasn't going to turn into asking for a reminiscing session. He didn't need that trip down the razor-lined sidewalks of memory lane. But the invitation...that was a nasty little wrinkle.

"Yeah, I know," he said, and leaned back against the couch, still careful of his back. "But it's not like it's hopeless. If you really want to try and track down information about her...there are things we can try." He'd avoided it for a decade, but Rock was old enough to take care of himself, and that was too old for kidnapping charges to stick. Hopefully.

"Billy still hates us, you know."

"A little bird told me Joe and Lily were seeing each other again, so that's our in right there. And Billy's calmed down some. Not gonna say ten years is too long to hold a grudge, but it's worth asking. And there's Mary and her connections-" Terry didn't miss the way Rock stiffened at Mary's name. Geez. The jealousy had stopped being cute at thirteen. But he didn't say anything, so Terry went on. "-and I met a nice cop at the tournament. Kicked his ass, but got his phone number. He might have something."

"More than one way to catch a fish, huh?" The dark cloud hovering over Rock started to lift, and he almost looked like his usual self again. "It might work. Thanks, Terry."

"No problem. Hey, if you're feeling so much better, how about getting me a couple beers from the fridge?"

The look Rock gave him was the epitome of long-suffering, but the kid sighed out a "Fine" and got up anyway. It didn't take him long to come back with a couple cans he tossed at Terry. "Here you go. One to drink, one for your head."

"Thanks," Terry said. "But it's one for you, one for me. Here."

Rock gave the can and Terry a long, dubious look. "Terry, I'm seventeen."

"Exactly the right time to learn how to drink responsibly." Terry always wondered which parent Rock had gotten all the discipline from. It sure wasn't him. "Trust me, Rock, you're not going to get anything like smashed off of one of these."

Rock still looked dubious, but took the can anyway.

"All right, your first tournament! Cheers!"

"Cheers."

The cans came together with a small clink. Terry took a long drink, enjoying the refreshing coolness. Nothing like a cold beer after a long, hot day.

Beside him, Rock took a tentative sip. The second the beer hit his tongue his face froze, eyes wide. "This is disgusting!"

"Now, now..."

"How do you even drink this!?" He shoved his can at Terry, almost spilling it. "Here, yours. I'm finishing off that apple juice."

Terry shook his head. "Kids. No taste." He ignored the irritated "I have plenty of taste, thank you!" from the kitchen in favor of settling back and taking another drink.

A new King of Fighters, a missing mother, and inevitably, the shadow of Geese. Only Rock had gotten a personalized invitation with a lure; Terry and everyone else he'd checked with had gotten the plain version. It was blatantly a trap, which either said a lot about this Kain R. Heinlein's forethought...or his confidence.

Rock was valuable. Geese's only known child meant a lot in the underworld. Terry had spent the past decade and change doing his best to keep the vultures away, but it looked like the honeymoon was coming to an end. It was sheer luck this Kain had been so incredibly confident or just plain dumb enough to bet it all on Rock winning his first tournament. Terry had never expected an attack to come baited with Rock's mom - stupid of him, he knew perfectly well how much Rock missed her - and he'd never wanted to dig up more info than he had to. Cowardice, maybe. Just wanting the past to stay where it belonged. He should've known better.

Kain's plans hadn't worked out this time. There wasn't enough information to know if he'd try again anytime soon, but Terry couldn't afford to leave it all to chance. Looked like it was time to dig into the underworld and open the Pandora's Box of everything Geese had left behind, even if it blew up in his face.

The situation had held until Rock was old enough to stand on his own. Small blessings. And the kid had grown into a fine young man. Anyone trying to lure him into the darkness was going to have their work cut out for them.

Terry took another sip of beer. Nothing to do but take the problems as they came and trust it would always work out in the end. Had worked so far.

* * *

tfw you're the main character but the player picked someone else

tfw you put on an elaborate fighting tournament to manipulate a protagonist with a hidden ability and he gets knocked out before the semifinals.

(tfw you went out to a tournament and lost but you had fun and made a new friend)

I've always been fascinated by how you can sort of choose your own canon in fighting games (at least until the sequel comes out). And until SNK gives us MotW2, who's to say Butt DIDN'T win?


	3. Billy and Duck

It was an hour after Geese died when Billy stormed down to the Pao Pao Cafe and Terry kicked his ass for the second time that night.

It was a month after Geese died when Billy was drowning himself in alcohol - all free, the Howard Connection might be in shambles but the name still meant something, goddammit - and sleeping in the gutter more often than not.

It was two months after Geese died when Duck King found him and dragged him home to Lily and Billy got the scolding of his life in the morning. It didn't help. Geese was dead, so what the hell was he supposed to do?

It was two months and two days after Geese died when Billy paid Duck back by breaking some punks that thought they could run a protection racket. Dumbass pieces of shit. Billy had been running better at fifteen. Duck wasn't even grateful.

It was three months after Geese died when Billy started offering regular protection for Lily and Duck. Cleaning up street trash was beneath him but helping Lily wasn't, and Duck kept dragging him home after the late nights. Stupid hippie. At least he had the smarts not to tell Billy no.

It felt good to use his bo again.

It was a six months and three weeks after Geese died when Billy could bring himself to visit the grave. It was covered in crap like flowers and crosses and fucking reeked of piss under all the incense. Couple stakes shoved into the ground too.

Billy poured some of Geese's favourite bourbon out on the dirt and just sat there. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He was nothing if he didn't belong to Geese Howard. Just another bottom-feeding scum sucker, like he would've stayed if Geese hadn't picked him up. And now...

Eventually he stood up and left, feeling as lost as ever.

It was a year, four months, and two days after Geese died when Billy caught a tip Terry was a couple states away. He drove all night and got his ass kicked in the morning.

It was two years after Geese died when Billy realised he was spending more time helping Lily with the laundry business and checking IDs at Duck's nightclub than beating the shit out of punks.

He went and put some idiots that had been giving Lily looks in the hospital to make himself feel better. It worked for a bit.

It was two years and seven months after Geese died when Billy noticed that Duck had some nice eyes under the goofy goggles. He felt guilty about noticing, which was weird because Billy hadn't felt guilty about anything since he was twelve.

It was three years after Geese died when Ripper and Hopper stopped by his and Lily's new, shittier apartment. They spent the night drinking and reminiscing, celebrating the good old days and mourning the new. Both of them had landed on their feet - no one wanted their heads and they were all too well-connected to arrest - and Billy found he felt surprisingly well-disposed towards the bastards who hadn't even tried to stop Terry that night. They offered to put in a good word with their new boss and Billy turned them down. It just didn't feel right serving anyone but Geese.

It was three years, six months, and two weeks after Geese died when Duck slipped under his guard and Billy didn't punch him for it. They weren't fighting anyway. Stupid hippie was surprisingly warm up against Billy's chest for the two seconds he was there.

It was three years and eleven months after Geese died when Lily came up to him with determination in her eyes and wine on her breath to say that she knew everything that had happened between him and Geese, had hated all of it, and was glad that asshole was gone. Except she didn't say asshole because Lily was a good girl, but Billy could hear it anyway.

He just rubbed her hair and stayed quiet. Didn't say a thing about her bad-mouthing about the man who'd saved them both from hell. Didn't seem worth it anymore.

It was four years and three months after Geese died when Duck signed Billy up for some stupid Hawaiian dancing lessons. He wasn't any good at it, but he kept going back. His dumb flailing made Lily smile, at least.

It was four years and ten months after Geese died when Billy happened across Terry in London and got his ass kicked. Again.

It was five years and two days after Geese died when a hurricane whipped through Southtown that knocked all the power out for hours. He and Duck ended up sitting together in the nightclub, drinking and smoking while they listened to the storm outside. Billy found out Duck was single and didn't have any groupies hanging off his ass, which felt pretty weird. Not that Billy'd hang off Duck's ass, but...

He kissed Duck and was ready to blame it on the drink until he got kissed back.

It was five years and about six months after Geese died when Duck dragged all three of them to the beach for a "party" that was just them and a boombox. They danced around like a bunch of kids, Billy showed off his new skills, and Lily nearly beat them both in sparring.

It was only on the way back that Billy realised he hadn't heard Lily laugh like that since he was sixteen and she'd caught him teaching some dumbshit punks a lesson in respecting Geese.

He hadn't laughed as freely since then either, come to think of it.

It was six years, two months, and a few days after Geese died when Billy noticed he'd put his bo down an hour ago without thinking. He spent the next twenty minutes bugging Lily while she was doing accounts instead of going back for it; just to prove he could. He slept with it for the next three days but felt a bit proud of himself anyway.

It was six years and eleven months after Geese died when Billy first realised he kind of liked how Duck would dance him to the bed instead of shoving him up against the nearest wall like Geese used to. There was a weird little twist in his stomach when he realised he didn't even feel guilty about it.

It was seven years after Geese died when Billy heard Terry was dropping by Orlando. It was the closest he'd been to Southtown in ages. Billy stared at his car keys for a long time before putting them back in his pocket and going to see if Duck needed any help.

It was seven years and about ten months after Geese died when Lily expanded Kane-Do Laundry into a new location with a regular, above-board loan from the bank. Billy bitched about how much higher the interest was than the one Geese had given out, but it was hard not to remember the price for those rates.

Hard to miss how much happier Lily was about it too.

It was eight years after Geese died when Billy was lying in the dark, listening to Duck sleep next to him and watching headlights pass by on the ceiling, that he finally admitted that Geese had, sometimes, been kind of a prick.

It was nine years and some months after Geese died when Billy went back to the grave. It was still festooned with offerings, but there were fewer flowers and more scraps of paper with stuff like Matthew 19:24 written on them and the kind of crappy incense you got in dollar stores. It smelled less like piss than last time.

Billy just crouched there, smoking his cigarette and thinking. When it finally burned all the way down he stood up, bowed deeply, and walked away.

The cigarette smoldered in the grass behind him.

It was about ten years after Geese died when the letter showed up. Billy scanned through the flowery bullshit, caught a few phrases like "King of Fighters" and "Geese's legacy", and tossed the whole thing in the trash. He didn't have time for that crap anymore.

* * *

I started joking around with reasons for Billy to be bringing Duck flowers in the movie and before I knew it I had sold myself on the ship.


	4. Jenet, Hotatu, and Gato

"All right then! I'll let you look up to me!"

Match won, Jenet turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. The view was nice, but she had more opponents to fight on the way to all the lovely treasure! Best to get a quick start!

"R-Really? Wait!"

Jenet turned around more out of curiosity than anything else. Her recent opponent was picking herself up off the ground - with great care and delicacy, true - but she was already on her feet and swaying gently. That was way faster than most people Jenet knocked down! Well, she could hang around for a bit longer.

"Huh? What's up, toots?"

"It's just...you seem so cheerful and confident all the time. I'd like...I'd like some tips, please!"

Oh, the poor dear! Looking at her as a girl and not an opponent showed someone young and cute, but shy. She'd been pasting a smile on earlier, but looking into the girl's wide eyes now made Jenet remember the cracks around the mask. She'd known a lot of girls like that back home. Empty-eyed little things that just did what they were told...not becoming one of those was why she'd run away.

Well she could help with that, or she wasn't the leader of the Lillen Knights!

"Of course! Well, the first rule to getting confidence - is to act confident!"

The girl's face fell.

"No no, it's true!" Jenet hastened to explain. "Just hold your head high. Like this." She demonstrated with her natural poise. "Chin up, chest out like you're going to take on the world! Come on, do it with me, there's a girl!" The girl obediently stood up straight and raised her chin, though the chest out...well, she was young yet. Those things had a way of taking care of themselves. "Don't hide your arms behind your back. Cross them if you have to, but on your hips is better. And then...walk like you're not afraid of anything. Like anything out there should be afraid of _you_!"

The girl took a few hesitant steps forward, but Jenet was pretty sure most of the problem was leftover from the fight. If she'd known, she would've gone a little easier on the girl...though thinking about it, going easy might've cost her the fight. The girl might be shy, but she packed a punch. That would probably help with the walk later. It was nice when everything worked out!

"...is that all?" the girl asked.

"It's the start!" Jenet rested her hand on her hip and considered. Shy, pasting on a smile...but a driven and skilled fighter. The real problem there was the shyness...or whatever it was. The girl was meeting Jenet's eyes with no problem, but there was something in there she just couldn't catch. "You just have to do it _all the time_ , okay? Make it a policy to never back down, never stutter, and always speak your mind!"

"O...oh... Er, I'll try! Thank you!"

"Hm...what do you say to having some fun? Put all this into practice?" It might be a little underhanded, but Jenet was a pirate. Her mother had sworn by yoga and healthy eating for getting in touch with her true self, while Jenet had just never hidden it away in the first place. But Jenet had welcomed more than one shy, retiring young crewman into the Lillen Knights, and she knew one thing for sure.

There was nothing like a drink for breaking down barriers!

"Fun?" The girl blinked at her, then cast her eyes down. "That...I should be looking for someone..."

"Hey! What did I just say? Eyes forward! Speak up! Tell me clearly!"

"Ah!" The girl raised her chin and looked Jenet straight in the eye. "I'm looking for someone. I appreciate the offer, but-"

"No problem!" Jenet cut her off without a second thought. "We'll be going out with my crew! With all the boys keeping an eye out and hitting every bar in town, if the person you're looking for is here, we'll find them!"

The girl didn't seem to know how to react to that one. "Ah...wait, bars? I can't drink yet! I'm 16!"

"Don't worry, you can stick to beer and wine," Jenet said as she swept a friendly arm around the girl's shoulders. "Besides, our party pooping old man - Jacques, I'll introduce you - won't let you get too drunk. So come on! Have some fun! Live a little! Life's too short to be sad!"

"I don't think he'd be in bars...oh...oh fine! I'll come!" The girl was managing to keep up with Jenet's stride, which was pretty impressive. They were galloping down the stairs together and Jenet could already taste the rum she was going to have.

"Great! And if we don't find him here, you can join my crew! There's no life like the Lillen Knights!"

"W-what?!"

oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooo

Gato was not sulking.

He paced the filthy streets of Second Southtown alone with his thoughts, cursing his failure and inadequacy, but that wasn't sulking. Merely recognizing the vagaries of fate.

He had come here to hone his skills and find the trail of his father in this world-class fighting tournament, and all he'd done was get knocked out by some skinny little punk that had the temerity to preach to him afterward. "You can't live by hate alone"? Nonsense. Gato had been living by hate for the past six years and it hadn't led him wrong yet. The hate made him, propelled him forward on his lonely road, gave form and function to his life. And it was by that hate that he'd achieve his goals. If not today, then tomorrow, or next month...however long it took to bring that bastard down.

He was stalking down the piss-soaked alley, listening to the rumble of the train and the whistle of the wind when he felt it. A dark presence, lurking nearby...not his quarry, but what did that matter? Beating a fool into the dirt would ease the shame of his failure. Gato stepped into the shadow of the underpass, ready for anything.

"That-That'sh him! My brother! Broooooooootheeeeeeeeeeeeer!"

Gato spun around, the familiar voice cutting into his dead heart, yet- strange. Hotaru wasn't that loud. Wasn't she?

The figure stumbling towards him was bigger than the Hotaru he remembered, but that was no surprise. What was a surprise was her dress, her attitude, her company...and the fact she absolutely _reeked_ of alcohol.

"Brother! I misshed you scho much! Thiiiiiiiis much!" The figure - it couldn't be Hotaru, it just couldn't be - reached him, arms spread out wide. Her face was flushed a cherry red and she was swaying on her feet. The loose-fitting martial arts clothes he remembered had been replaced with- with scraps and rags. She was barely covered by a ragged old shirt that showed off her stomach, an equally ratty pair of pants cut off well above the knee, and a loose belt with - was that a _knife_?

"That's him? Great! I told you, didn't I? I did!" Some blonde woman ran up and grabbed Hotaru around the waist, spinning the pair around in a drunken dance. She was only slightly better dressed, but smelled even more strongly of alcohol.

"You did!" Hotaru was laughing and crying. "Brother! Come home with me!"

"Later! Right now, more booze! We gotta celebrate! Yahoo!" A chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd of seedy-looking men behind the pair of women, complete with wild barking from a mangy-looking dog. The women started cheering too.

Gato had no idea what to do.

His mother had told him, long ago, that it was his duty to protect Hotaru. He was older, he was the brother, it was up to him to look after her. He took that duty very seriously, and therefore had cut off all contact when he realised the path he had to take. The safest place for Hotaru was far away from the man he had become.

Except now she was drunk, in disreputable company, and he did _not_ like the way the blonde woman was hugging his sister.

The dark presence stirred. Thank the heavens. This was something he could handle.

"All of you, leave. This does not concern you." He'd defeat the presence...and then quietly take care of the fools around Hotaru. Simple. An assassin's art was exactly what the situation called for.

Until the blonde woman rushed forward, yelling. "Who's there? You got something to say, you come out and say it!"

And then Hotaru grabbed him, nearly bringing them both down. "Wait, brother! Don't...don't go! You gotta schtay!"

The men were cheering the woman on, the woman was getting ready to fight _Gato_ 's prey, and Hotaru was crying into his shoulder with the free tears of a drunkard.

How had he gotten into this mess?


	5. Geese and Terry

Terry lay on the floor, beaten, bloody, and half-conscious.

But still alive. He really was stronger than his father had been. Good.

Geese knelt on top of him, knees bracketing those narrow hips, and enjoyed the weak shudder that went through Terry's body. He managed to turn his head to look at Geese - but the eyes that had so recently shone with hatred were clouded and dim. He was probably fading in and out of consciousness, vision black at the edges, only barely aware of the hatred that sustained him...Geese knew that feeling. It had been his constant companion for all those months in the hospital, when he had spent each day in a drugged haze, clinging to one thing: revenge on the man who had reduced him, the ruler of Southtown, to such a state.

Now that man lay beneath him and it was better than all the drugs in the world.

Geese leaned over Terry, pushing him into the hardwood floor. He dragged a hand down Terry's chest, noting the contrast between hard muscle and swollen flesh...and the soft, hurt noises that came every time he dug his fingers into those tender injuries. No matter how Terry struggled to grit his teeth, Geese could hear those whimpers leak from the back of his throat.

Lovely.

He had planned to kill Terry. To throw him off the tower, or to stop his heart, or to just beat him into the floor until there was nothing left but gore.

But now the strongest man in the world, one of the only people Geese had feared, laid between his legs.

Terry didn't have to die. Not yet.

Geese pressed his mouth to Terry's neck and began to add a new set of bruises above the already darkening necklace of fingerprints.


	6. Terry and Mai (SNK Heroines)

Terry kicked high, swayed dizzyingly, overbalanced and fell right on his ass. "Arrggh! I just can't get used to this body!"

Mai, who had offered to be his sparring partner but seemed to consider that to mean "stand around and make smart remarks", tapped her fan against her chin. "And here I thought you were the strongest in the world for awhile."

"I was, back when I had my real body! It's...it's these!" He grabbed his now-ample bosom and squished it in irritated frustration. "They bounce around and mess up my balance! I don't know how you do it."

"Practice." She gave Terry a long look up and down as he got up and dusted himself off. He still moved like a guy, even stuck in a woman's body. "I'd think kicking would be easier now, at least."

"Huh? Why?"

Mai flicked her fan open and held it delicately in front of her mouth. "Well you don't have...bits...getting the way anymore. I was never sure how you guys do it." Her eyes tracked down to the crotch of Terry's jeans, which were still hanging open despite constant attempts to button them.

"You can say 'balls', I know you're not shy," Terry grumped. "And...practice."

"How dare you! I am the flower of Japanese maidenhood! Oh by the way, be a dear and pick up my fan? It's right behind you."

"Yeah, sure."

Mai watched Terry turn around and bend over with a satisfied eye, then gave what she was pretty sure was a hidden camera a wink and grin. "See that, dumbass who put us here? I'd better get copies of these recordings!"

"What the-?! Mai, you, you... I'm gonna burn every single damn one of them, hear that?!" Terry glared at the camera, at the snickering Mai, and at the world in general before flopping forward with a sigh. "God, I wish this had happened to Andy... You wouldn't pull half this shit with him."

"I wish Andy was here too! We'd be fighting side-by-side, and I could do his hair, and teach him Iall about/I his new body..." Mai sighed long and happily. Her eyes unfocused as she wandered off into a world only she could see.

Terry gave Mai A Look. "That's my little brother you're talking about, you know."

"Oh, but we'd definitely have to destroy all the cameras-"

"You'd do it for him?! No, of course you would, forget I said anything." Terry made another failed attempt to button up his jeans before throwing his hands up and stalking towards the nearest exit. "Let's get going, I want out of here."


	7. Jeff and the Kids

Jeff shifted the boy's weight to his hip and fumbled in his pocket for the keys. The boy - Andy, right, quiet one Andy, loud one Terry - looked up blearily but didn't seem inclined to make a fuss about being carried. Then again, the face resting against Jeff's shoulder was burning hot. Hard to mount a protest with that kind of fever.

Even Terry seemed worn out after all the excitement earlier, to Jeff's quiet relief. He wasn't sure what he'd do with a kid that could keep that level of energy up indefinitely. The kid watched silently with his armful of stolen food cans as Jeff shoved the door open - damn thing always stuck - and led him and his brother into their new home.

"You can drop those on the table," Jeff called over his shoulder as he navigated his way through the small kitchen/living room. He really needed to clean up the counter...and the floor...at least the table was fine, because there wasn't anything to put on it. Jeff kicked a couple empty takeout boxes toward the trash and hoped the low light would cover up the cracks in the plaster. He'd have to figure out what to do about those soon.

"Wow...pretty nice place you got here, old man!" Terry had obediently laid the cans on the table and was looking around in amazement.

Then again, four walls and a roof must seem like paradise compared to a rat-infested hole. It was all a matter of perspective. "It does the job," Jeff replied. "You two want anything to eat?"

Andy mumbled "...not hungry..." from Jeff's shoulder, and Terry gave him a long look before shrugging with an "I'm fine," that was probably more about keeping Andy in sight than not being hungry. Well, they wouldn't starve before the morning, and the extra time would give Jeff the opportunity to buy some real food. He just nodded and carried Andy in the bedroom, Terry right at his heels.

He barely managed to get Andy's shoes and jacket off before the kid was curled up under the blankets and dead to the world, and then had to grab Terry before /he/ climbed into bed with his shoes on too. Little barbarians. Jeff resigned himself to washing the bedding first thing tomorrow, since there was no way he was getting either of them in a bathtub at this point.

Terry gave him one last suspicious look from under the covers. "You'd better not be a cannibal or a pervert or anything," he said, but was out before Jeff could reply.

"Bit late for that, kid." Jeff sighed. Both of them were piled up right next to each other, like little puppies. It was, honestly, pretty darn cute.

He reached out and carefully laid the back of his hand on Terry's forehead. Yep, definitely warm. Not nearly as bad as his brother, but not exactly in the pink either. Honestly, the most surprising thing was that he was running around and picking fights with adults with any sort of fever. That kid was going to be trouble for sure.

So...food, laundry, baths, new clothes, a doctor, a full set of shots...Jeff could already feel a headache starting behind his eyes. What had made him decide to pick them up?

Not being able to walk away. Right, right.

And they were cute. Jeff gave them one last smile as he turned to leave, paused, then ran back to grab his private magazines off the dresser. That was close. He had to find somewhere to hide those, and he had the sneaking suspicion the only safe place would be the dojo. At least any prying students would be old enough to steal them instead of asking embaressing questions.

The pile of cans stared disapprovingly at him as he got a cup of coffee. They needed to be returned, and he needed to go grocery shopping, but even if the kids were out cold he couldn't just bail on them right away. And of course Cheng had gone back to Hong Kong and Geese...Geese hated kids and had to be knee-deep in crime to boot. You didn't get to be Southtown Police Commissioner without being at least a little mobbed up.

Police...he probably had to file some kind of report. Chances were no one was looking for the kids, unwanted orphans were a dime a dozen, but it would be good to know for sure. He could figure out how to get them properly adopted while he was there too. It was probably- it was definitely going to be a lot of paperwork.

First things first. Jeff drained the cup and reached for the phone to dial a familiar number. "Hello, Master Tung? It's Jeff. Listen, I just adopted a couple kids and I need some help- Yes, two kids, no idea how old they are. Under ten. Yes, I know I only left half an hour ago!"


	8. KoF-verse Clickbait

**FIVE THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT SPACE JAM**

 _-by Marcus Drakken 01/14/20XX_

Lucky Glauber's strange Loony Tune-shared star vehicle is an essential part of any 90s kid's nostalgia. We all remember the hype, the playground discussions, and that brief period of time when it seemed like Glauber was going to play basketball again. We've all slammed and been welcomed to the jam. And for the most part, we've consigned Space Jam to the dustbin of history, only to be brought out for bouts of "do you remember...?" among friends.

Allow me to be perfectly clear: this is the correct decision. Space Jam is not a good movie in any objective sense of the term. Let it live in your memories, untarnished by actually going back to watch it. But you don't have to tear away the fuzzy sense of nostalgia to enjoy finding out five strange facts about the movie we all loved as kids.

 **5\. The website is still up**

Yes, the 1997 official Warner Bros Space Jam website is still up and running, just like it was back in the day. If you miss frames, fluorescent backgrounds, and tiny, blurry Quicktime movies, then go roll around in some primo Geocities-era web design, back when the internet was new and free and we didn't have to go through our new followers entire Twitter feeds to find out if they're a racist sack of shit or fear they're going through our history to find something they can twist into proving we're the asshole instead.

Best is the Behind the Jam section, which details how they combined hand-drawn animation, live action, and godawful 90s CG into a single movie. Thrill to messy .movs showing what might be Lucky Glauber playing basketball with men in skintight green suits, if it's not the internals of a hard drinker's stomach after a night on the town. Revel in the sheer, unrelenting hubris it takes to call a confused, poorly-acted and animated advertisement like Space Jam the compact disk to actual good movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit's vinyl LP. And gawk at behind the scenes artwork where we can finally verify that no, Lola had no concept past "sexy Bugs Bunny".

 **4\. Lucky Glauber was originally supposed to play baseball**

As all American children of the 90s know, Lucky Glauber "retired" from basketball in 1994 to concentrate on martial arts. Space Jam was made when Lucky come back from karate to regain his basketball crown (right before he "retired" to go back to KoF in 1998, then unretired again, then retired for good...), but it wasn't always that way. Original drafts for the script have surfaced and they feature the sport Lucky's best with: baseball.

It makes sense. The 90s were a time when American parents were very concerned with violence in the media, and not a lot of people wanted to risk making a movie where a celebrity gets into street fights. Pretending Lucky went into baseball instead would satisfy everyone...but the man himself. Lucky Glauber legendarily insisted on his martial arts being acknowledged, even threatening to walk and force Warner Bros to make the movie about Michael Jordan instead if the script couldn't be rewritten. Sources claim he wanted to focus on martial arts as disciple and restraint instead of mindless violence, but we're pretty sure he actually just wanted someone to care about his repeated attempts to get into The King of Fighters.

 **3\. That crack about baseball was ad-libbed**

But Lucky wasn't going to pretend he wasn't good at baseball. Even though he never played professionally, his amateur records show he had a batting average of .276 and an RBI of 72, stats that blew other basketball-and-baseball player Michael Jordan out of the water. And they both knew it, as shown by Glauber's famous "hey Mike, I'll see you on the diamond" line at the end of the movie. This line was completely ad-libbed, and all the reactions to it are real. It's unknown if Jordan punched Glauber the second the cameras stopped rolling like we all secretly believed as kids, but if he did, we're betting on the guy who can kill a man with a basketball.

 **2\. The fight with Joe Higashi was real**

And speaking of real fights, the match with long-time Muay Thai world champion Joe Higashi at the beginning of the movie was 100% real. No choreography, no pulled punches, nothing. Lucky and Joe legitimately beat the shit out of each other in front of a camera and it was turned into a nationally-distributed movie. It's one of the things that both explains why modern movie fight scenes look so bad and why we have fight choreographers. It was also a miserable nightmare for the makeup artists, since Lucky got a number of bruises off Joe and they had to consistently maintain every single one, with no slipping or fading, for the rest of the filming. Even on a vastly reduced shooting schedule that was a herculean undertaking.

Interestingly, while Joe isn't known for any sort of acting career over here in the States, his Joe the Champ series of films are big hits in his adopted home country, Thailand. They've been churning out one a year for over a decade now with no slump in popularity, and you can pretty easily get all sorts of Joe the Champ merchandise from the internet. Ever want Joe saving a girl from a gigantic crocodile on your bedsheets? _It can be yours_.

 **1\. Heavy D! and Brian Battler's cameos are deeper than you know**

Sure, Heavy D! and Brian Battler teleport in to save Lucky Glauber from the evil Mon-Star's grapple at the end because they're pals, right? They say it in the movie. But it's also a completely legitimate tactic under The King of Fighters rules, and that's the joke none of us dumb little kids whose parents wouldn't allow us to stay up late and watch bloodsports got.

See, in KoF teammates mostly have to stay on the sidelines cheering their friends on, but if the current fighter is in a locked position (as detailed in The King Of Fighters Official Rulebook, page 26, subsection 3 and yes, underground no-holds barred fighting tournaments that are put on at the behest of shadowy masterminds have official rulebooks that dozens of people argue over each year, why would you think they didn't) a teammate may jump into the match in progress to save him/her. They can do this from any position, which explains the shower joke in Space Jam, but they are also not _required_ to do so. Which is why Korea took the fall in '96 when Chang decided he was more interested in picking his nose than saving Kim Kaphwan from Wolfgang Krauser. Yes, that happened. It's on Youtube, if you want to see an entire country's dreams die at once.

 _-Marcus Drakken swears he's a long-time sports fan who did not have to look up what the hell an RBI is to write this article. Read his other articles for DorkLife_ _here_ _._


	9. Young Grant

It was all Kain's fault. Stupid Kain. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Kain.

Abel sprinted through decaying buildings and filthy alleyways to La Familia's lair. Because that was where Kain was, and that meant it was where Abel belonged, no matter what. Even if Kain was leaving Abel behind to do the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his /life/ -

The run-down brick building La Familia used as their headquarters loomed over Abel, and he ducked inside an alleyway before the two lazy-looking guards outside noticed him. One of them raised his blank, cow-like face and moved it up and down the street; Abel pulled himself behind an overflowing dumpster before the idiot saw him. All Kain's fault. All of it.

He considered going to Marie. La Familia was nothing before the Howard Connection. With the right word they could be swept away like trash in a hurricane, and Abel had access to the women who could drop that word in the right ear. Well. He probably had access. If he could convince the guards he really was Marie's little brother like he basically was, and if she was still allowed to see him when she was locked up in that tower. It was a lot more possible than what Kain was doing.

No. No way in hell. He was a man now, and strong, and he and Kain were going to change the city. He didn't need to go begging at Geese Howard's feet. He didn't need Marie to comfort him anymore. The next time he saw Marie it would be to rescue her. He and Kain had promised.

He should've made Kain promise to wait until they were bigger. 13, maybe. But Kain had hared off to catch Don Papas' eye as soon as he could toss sparks from his hands and it had worked, and the next thing Abel saw was Kain getting in that smooth black car and the only thing he could do was run after it all the way to here.

It wasn't a surprise Don Papas liked Kain. Everyone knew the Don liked beautiful things. Art, women, kids...

Stupid Kain.

Abel knew he wasn't pretty like Kain and Marie. His hair stuck out like straw instead of laying flat and golden, his nose was too big, his eyes were a muddy sort of green-brown instead of bright, eye-catching red, and he didn't have a lick of grace in his whole body.

But he was strong. Strong enough to break bricks, strong enough to lift Kain and himself, strong enough to take on full-grown men and win. Men like those stupid guards.

Don Papas wanted strong fighters? Fine. He'd get the very very best. And no matter how long it took, he'd learn in the end. Kain and Abel would carve their lesson into his body.

Southtown could only be ruled by the strong.


	10. Buriki One, Ryo

"Mr. Ryo Sakazaki. Very pleased to meet you, please sit down." The World Grapple Tournament representative had a firm handshake and a calm, businesslike demeanor. The office was open and bright, with a computer on the desk, a few plants scattered around, and a well-worn carpet. Absolutely nothing suspicious about it at all.

Ryo returned the handshake and sat down, as requested. "So, uh...why'd you call me here, Mr...?"

"Takeda. Jiro Takeda. And, well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..."

"But?" The hesitation was starting to make Ryo antsy. Far as he knew, the World Grapple Tournament and his participation in it were both completely above board.

"We're familiar with your participation in the various The King of Fighters tournaments over the years, from 1979 to 1991. Your performance in all of them was very impressive. But there's something that needs to be emphasized about this tournament in particular." Takeda straightened in his desk and looked directly at Ryo, who shifted a bit under the steady gaze. "The World Grapple Tournament is a perfectly normal athletic contest."

Ryo blinked and scratched his beard. "Uh, sure. Of course. I got that. Don't see what that's got to do with me."

"What I mean, Mr. Sakazaki, is that channeling your ki into a visible force for the purpose of assaulting your opponent from a distance is strictly forbidden."

"Eh?"

"No fireballs, ice balls, energy balls, or similar techniques are allowed and, if used, will result in an immediate disqualification. Only standard, _normal human_ karate techniques will be allowed. If there is a question of who won, a panel of judges will decide according to a set of regulations agreed upon by an international regulatory body. There will be no demons, shadowy masterminds plotting world domination, clones, or blood feuds. Do you understand?" Takeda slammed a hefty-looking binder onto the desk with a distinctly final thunk. "These are the regulations, I expect you to follow them! Is that clear?"

"Uh...yeah, sure." Ryo tentatively reached out and took the binder, careful as if any sudden movements would cause an explosion leaving little Takeda fragments all over the nice office. "A regular tournament, huh... Didn't think they had those anymore."


	11. KoF, King and Mai

"-hasn't even looked at me lately! It's all about the students and the tournament and training and, and, and... Aaaaaaaah, Andyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

King turned a well-practiced deaf ear to her teammate's drunken complaining. It happened every year. KoF came around, Mai came around, Mai went straight for the appletinis, King got an earful of Andy's continuing failure to notice the gorgeous woman throwing herself at him. This year Mai seemed especially put-out, something about a rock that was as big as she was? King was fluent in Shitfaced Shiranui Mai, but she'd missed a few key phrases and hadn't bothered to catch up.

"...youth is fleeting." Mai's chin was on the bar. King was going to have to cut her off soon. "Soon, all of mine will be dried up and gone. Did you know his voice is starting to change? It cracks in the middle of all his kiais. It's so cute but, but, but I remember when he was just a squeaky little kid and now he's almost a man and what does that make meeeeeeeeeeeeee?"

"Whose voice is starting to change?"

"I _told_ you, Rock's is. He sprouted like a weed and now he's as tall as me and his voice is changing and pretty soon he'll be in KoF too!" She waved her drink around for emphasis, then, realising it was sloshing dangerously close to the rim, took a big gulp.

King filled a glass with water and placed it in front of Mai as a hint, which Mai failed to take. "And Rock is...?" she prompted.

"Terry's kid. Adopted him around...around...six years back? Seven? '95, how many years ago was '95?" Mai's eyes flickered blearily around the bar like it had the answers. When it failed to provided them, she started counting on her fingers.

"Terry has a kid?" King said, surprised. Everyone knew Terry Bogard loved kids - it was impossible to miss the crowd of ankle-biting admirers - but she hadn't known he had one of his own. But now that she thought about it...the kid she'd seen tagging at Terry's heels for the past few tournaments had seemed a bit too familiar to just be a fan. "How'd Mary react? She doesn't strike me as the maternal type."

"They sat down and had a sensible adult conversation about it and mutually decided to stay friends until Rock's on his own." Mai stared at her glass, voice downcast. "...I've never had an adult conversation with Andy..."

 _I don't think that's Andy's fault._ King internally chided herself for being cruel. Mai was silly and flighty, but she knew how to be serious when the situation called for it. _Besides, it's not like I'd ever pick Terry as someone to have an adult conversation either._

"Anyway," Mai rallied again, "Rock's big and he still won't stop calling me Aunt Mai! I keep telling him to call me "sis" but he won't, the little brat."

"If he's Terry's kid, aren't you his aunt by definition?"

"No!" Mai blinked. "Yes! But...no. I would be, if Andy would just accept me! But no matter what I do he keeps running away and do you know how many years it's been? I swore I'd marry him before I even met Terry and now Terry has a kid and that kid is as big as I am and Andy still won't marry me! He's a coward!" She swayed with the strength of her declaration, right before she swayed too hard and burst into tears. "I didn't mean that! I'm sorry, Andy!"

King rubbed her temple. She could feel a headache coming on. _Next time, cut Mai off two drinks earlier,_ she thought, and ignored how she vowed the same thing every year. Lacking better options, she patted Mai on the shoulder and thanked her lucky stars the bar was nearly deserted at this hour.

Maybe it was the headache, maybe it was that Mai had been pulling this routine since '95, but King opened her mouth to speak the words she'd never had the courage to before.

"Mai...why are you so set on Andy? A gorgeous woman like you could have any man she wanted. You don't have to keep chasing after someone that doesn't want you."

That stopped the waterworks. King could almost see the gears turning in Mai's head as she tried to come up with an answer. "He's handsome," she finally declared.

"Ah, but there are many handsome men out there," King replied.

Mai took a minute to digest that. She came back with "He's nice..." in a slightly more uncertain tone.

"There are nice men too. Rarer, yes, but you'd have the pick of the litter." _If you can bring yourself to sort through the chaff_ King added in her head and didn't mind the mixed metaphors. Mai could handle herself against her fans, she knew how to take out creeps.

Mai paused for the longest time yet. She swayed gently on her seat. Then, in a small voice, she said: "...he's not interested in me."

"Eh?"

"He was the first man to ever resist my charms," Mai explained. "So I had to have him...do you get it?"

King most certainly did not. Some incomprehension must have shown on her face, because Mai kept going. "He wasn't interested, so I had to _make_ him interested. The Shiranui arts never fail! ...except they did."

"The thrill of the chase?" King hazarded, which got a vague sort of nod from Mai. She resisted swearing. "Mai, did you ever think about what you were going to do if you caught him?" A metaphor involving coyotes and roadrunners appeared before her. She let it remain unsaid.

"Marriage is a woman's happiness!" Mai declared, clearly now on firmer ground. "We'd get married and have children and carry on the Shiranui ninja arts and it would be perfect!"

"I don't see how a woman's happiness is any different from a man's..." King muttered. _Poor Andy. I'd run away too._ She took a minute to try and work her thoughts into the completely foreign framework of Shiranui Mai. "Mai, have you ever considered that it might be you chasing Andy that's making him run away?"

Mai stared like this had never occurred to her before. "You mean I'm coming on too strong?"

"I'm saying that if you put the brakes on, you might be able to have that adult conversation. Then you can find out what Andy actually feels." _And hope for your sake it's not "get this crazy woman away from me"._

"Skittish prey requires a still hunter..." Mai muttered to herself.

"And in the meantime, you can find out what you actually want." At Mai's look of bewilderment, King gave another push. "Catching someone doesn't mean you'll have a happy marriage, right? You need to think of yourself and what you need. Experiment. Try someone else. You're still young. Why not have some fun on your own terms?"

"Experiment...fun..." Mai sunk deep in thought. She sipped at the water in front of her, giving King the chance to pull away the remains of her drink. It seemed like the idea was taking root. King gave a pleased little hum and started to wipe down the bar, giving herself over to the familiar concerns of bartending. It was getting time to announce last call.

By the time she had worked her way back over to Mai, the ninja was sitting much straighter on her stool and her water needed refilling. King took the liberty of doing so while Mai spoke. "You're absolutely right, King. I'm going to have a fling! After all," she smiled the slightly-too-bright smile of the drunk and tossed her hair back with an airy wave "if your way is blocked by a stone, flow around it!"

"That's the spirit," King said, and was about to move off again when a hand landed on her elbow. She turned back to Mai and-

-wow. Mai was leaning forward, her deep, dark eyes focused on King's with an intensity usually reserved for battle. Her lips were pushed forward into a little pout that caught the dim light and invited touch to see if they were as soft as they looked. Her sleek, shining hair framed the edges of her face like ravens wings, her cleavage pushed up from her tight, form-fitting dress, and her perfume floated around them like smoke on a cool night.

King's knees knocked together. Were these the Shiranui techniques? Why the hell was Mai using them on _her_? Not that she minded...well, she did mind, this wasn't what she had meant, but it was hard to think of a good reason to mind when Mai's dark eyelashes were so clearly outlining her beautiful eyes. She'd never seen Mai like this before.

Mai tugged at King's elbow, drawing them closer across the bar. Like this King could smell the alcohol from three appletinis on Mai's breath, but it hardly seemed to matter right now. "No time like the present, right? I always thought...that if I couldn't have Andy, I'd like someone like you, King."

"Y-yeah?" King was pretty used to women's attentions and usually enjoyed them, but something about the way Mai looked right now made her feel like a flustered teenager.

"You're handsome, you're kind, you're strong..."

"You're-" _drunk_ King started to say, but that would ruin the moment and suddenly she didn't want to do that. She could feel her heart beat and it was telling her to go for it. Her brain was still telling her to think about what they'd do in the morning, but it was fighting a losing battle and they both knew it.

If Mai even remembered in the morning they could deal with it then.

Mai smiled, slow, lazy, and inviting.

King leaned forward and tasted the apple juice on her lips.

* * *

"I want him because he doesn't want me" is the only explanation I can come up with for why Mai is so devoted to Andy.


	12. Real Bout, the Jins, Xiangfei, Junior

"Dash, dash!"

Junior took off sprinting across the tiny park, Chonshu right behind.

"Dash, dash!"

They hit the opposite end, Chonshu just a half-step behind Junior, and spun around to race back.

"Scraaaaaamble... dash!"

Junior ran in ever-tightening circles until Chonshu tackled him to the ground. They laid dizzily on the patchy grass and laughed until they couldn't breathe.

Eventually Chonshu sat up, humming the next few bars of the song. It was a nice day, maybe he could take Junior down to Sound Beach to run around in the waves for a change. Emilia'd kill him if he got Junior's clothes wet, but they could go wading no problem. It would be a good way to cool down.

The kid in question grabbed him around the waist and failed to drag him back down to the ground. "Again, again!" he panted. "I bet I can beat you this time!"

"No way, I'll catch- huh? Hey, it's Chonrei! Chooooooooon-reeeeeeeeeiiiiiii!" Chonshu waved to the figure he had just noticed coming down the street, to absolutely no reaction.

"What's he doing?" Junior asked as they watched Chonrei saunter along. He stopped in front of one of the innumerable little shops that lined the streets of Chinatown, but not to look at items he couldn't afford. Instead he brought out a little comb and carefully teased his hair up into sharper points, dusted a bit of dust off his jacket, and made a dozen more minute adjustments to his appearance.

He was dressed to the nines for no reason Chonshu could see. A sharp black jacket with a discreet amount of embroidery, pressed sky blue shirt, loose black pants Chonshu was pretty sure he recognized from their workouts, and...was that a scarf? In the middle of summer? "What a dork," Chonshu said.

"Brother Chonrei!" Junior yelled. Chonshu corrected him with a quiet " _Uncle_ Chonrei," because he knew it pissed his brother off. Chonrei deserved it for being so smug about being two minutes older anyway.

None of their shouting had any effect. Chonrei ignored them both and disappeared into what Chonshu vaguely remembered was a restaurant.

Chonshu and Junior sat in silence for a few minutes. "Let's spy on him," Junior suggested.

"Sure." Chonshu was getting hungry anyway. They picked themselves up, brushed off the worst of the grass and dirt, and scampered over to the door Chonrei had disappeared into.

They ducked down and peeked into one of the windows like real spies, and saw...a perfectly ordinary restaurant. Waitresses ran around with trays, a bunch of customers sat at tables, and plenty of noise boomed out from the kitchen. Chonrei had settled himself in one of the booths and looked like he was just perusing the menu. It was disappointingly boring.

"Let's get lunch," Chonshu suggested, and Junior nodded. No point in playing spies if there was nothing to spy on.

They plunked themselves down right across from Chonrei, who glared at them. "What're you two doing here?" he grouched in Chinese.

Chonshu ignored the tone. Chonrei was always irritable when he was hungry. "Getting food, same as you. Chonrei, what the hell are you wearing?"

" _Some_ of us want to look nice sometimes. Anyway, find your own table."

"Why? If you can afford those clothes you can afford to buy us lunch. Right, Junior?" Chonshu said, switching back to English. Junior nodded in enthusiastic support.

The lines between Chonrei's eyebrows got deeper. "Can't you at least ditch the kid?" he asked, still in Chinese.

"No, because Franco and Emilia are paying me to look after him while Franco trains for his comeback," Chonshu replied in the same language. "Besides, you like Junior," he added in English.

Junior took the hint and looked adorable. "Let's have lunch, Uncle Chonrei!"

Chonrei's face got so red it looked like he was going to explode. Chonshu nearly died smothering his laughter. " _Uncle-_ " Chonrei snapped, finally switching to English, "Kid, you do not-"

"Sorry for the wait!" One of the waitresses bounced up to them. "Can I take your order?"

Chonrei smoothed himself out so fast Chonshu wanted to applaud. Then die laughing again because Chonrei was sprawling himself out in the seat like he thought he was a model at a photoshoot. So that's why he was dressed up like that!

The waitress was pretty cute, Chonshu had to admit. She had a nice round face with bright sparkling eyes and smooth black hair done up in two little loops with silver bells on top. His brother had good taste...even if he lacked in savoir-fare.

"Well, what do you recommend, little miss?" Chonrei said in what he probably imagined was a cool guy voice.

"Huh? Sorry, can you say that in English? I don't speak Chinese."

"Nice going, bro," Chonshu snickered, but he kept it in Chinese out of brotherly loyalty. Switching back to English, he brightly asked the waitress: "Were you born here? You don't have an accent at all."

"Yep! My grandfather came over back in the 40s and we've been living here ever since. It's his restaurant, you know. Anyway, do you want some more time?"

"Can you..." Chonrei paused, lost, and Chonshu took pity on him enough to hiss "recommend" under his breath. "...yes, recommend a...dish?" God, six months in the US after another six months in Hong Kong and Chonrei still sounded like he was trying to remember a phrasebook. Even with the weird blackouts they got that couldn't be normal. Chonshu didn't have that much trouble, after all.

"Sure!" The waitress immediately launched into an enthusiastic description of what sounded like every item on the menu. Junior and Chonshu listened with interest, Chonrei with increasing desperation. Well, she was going pretty fast. And was that drool at the corner of her mouth? "-the noodles are so delicious, mmmm. Oh, and then there's our desert menu, if you want that too."

"Not right now. The noodles sound excellent, let's start with those" Chonshu said, and Chonrei added "two, please." Junior thought for a long time and ended up ordering some dumplings.

"Thanks for your order, we'll have it out soon!" The waitress nodded and dashed away to a different table. Chonrei watched her go with undisguised disappointment.

"She didn't even notice your hair, huh?" Chonshu asked, and winced when Chonrei kicked him under the table. "Sorry bro, I think the way to that one's heart is through her stomach."

Chonrei frowned. He stewed like that for a solid ten minutes, while Chonshu entertained Junior with stories about what _real_ Chinese food was like. Then he abruptly stood up, threw off his jacket and scarf, spun around, and headed for the kitchen with fire in his eyes.

"I didn't mean it that seriously..." Chonshu muttered to himself. Well, whatever. If it worked - and Chonrei was an amazing cook - then good for both of them.

"What's he doing?" Junior asked. Behind the kitchen door they could hear Chonrei shouting for a job.

"Trying to get cooties."

"Ewww."

"Yeah. Hey, do you want to go to the beach after this?"

"Yeah!"

* * *

The song in the beginning is Ore wa Great Mazinger, which is a bit old for 1995 but it's also my theme song so I don't care.

In Japanese Chonshu claims to have been the one looking after Junior after Yamazaki kidnapped him. I just extended that a bit to keeping babysitting after Terry punched the evil out.

Chonrei talks entirely in hiragana or katakana in FF3 and Real Bout, which I interpreted as not being very good at English. He gets better by RBSpecial and RB2, presumably because of immersion. (or SNK forgot) His special skill is listed as cooking in FF3, and only changes to dressing up in RB.


	13. Garou, Kain's a creep

Kain couldn't believe how well the Maximum Mayhem tournament had worked out. Losing Grant hurt, of course - he hadn't even been allowed to know how inevitable it was until afterwards - but he accepted the pain and moved forward with no regrets. Anything else would have been a slight to Grant's memory.

And in return Kain had gained a prize beyond compare. Geese's power and Marie's looks were as potent a combination as he had imagined them. Rock had strength even Kain struggled against, quick strikes backed up by unbelievable mobility, so fast they were impossible to guard against. It would be a long time before Kain forgot the thrill of their final match. And surprising beauty as well; he had inherited Marie's delicate features, bright eyes and soft hair, as well as a narrow figure that while unmistakably boyish, still had her sense of grace.

There was just one problem.

"Hey! Lay off, freak!"

...the Legendary Wolf's attitude.

It was vexing. It was irritating. It was the one fly in the otherwise-perfect ointment. Not for the first time, Kain cursed whatever confluence of fate had hidden the existence of Marie's son until it was nearly too late. He tried not to blame his sister, but she really should have told him. All of this nonsense could have been avoided.

Kain loved his sister, but when he found her again there would be some very pointed questions asked.

Either way, what was done was done. It would have been better if Rock had been raised in civilization so he'd know his proper place as Geese's heir and Kain's right-hand man, but one made do. Kain would just have to teach the boy how things worked in the real world bit by bit.

To that end, he invited Rock, in no uncertain terms, to a small after-hours chat one evening, and took care to put out a nice bottle of whiskey and a couple glasses.

Rock showed up, slouched onto the opposite end of the couch from Kain, and sat there with a look that bordered on a glare. He waited a minute in silence before speaking with controlled irritation. "This about last night?"

'Last night' had been when Rock refused to go along with a plan to ambush several opposing gang leaders and instead had walked up to challenge them and their bodyguards 'fairly'. The fact he'd won without trouble only slightly eased the problem that every single one of them was still alive.

Sensing a battle he wasn't going to win - damn the Wolf - Kain slipped around the issue instead. "Not at all. I just thought that after three months we should get to know each other better. I haven't had much time with my nephew, after all." He poured two generous glasses of whiskey and held one out with a charming smile. "Drink?"

The look shifted into suspicious confusion, but Rock took the offered glass anyway. "I don't really drink..." he mumbled, holding it awkwardly.

"Then it's time to start," Kain said firmly. "A toast."

"Fine, whatever."

They clinked their glasses together and drank. Or Kain drank, and Rock coughed and sputtered.

"Too strong for you?" Kain asked, and took another sip to drive the point home.

The glare came back in full force as Rock wiped his mouth off with his sleeve. "Shut up." He took a long gulp and got it down by pure force of will, judging by his expression. When he finished the level in his glass was noticeably lower than Kain's.

If he'd been raised properly he'd know better. But if he'd been raised properly Kain wouldn't have to do this in the first place. He settled back and started with the small talk and got an expected series of snappish, monosyllabic answers in return.

By the time Kain was halfway through his own glass, Rock's angry gulps every time he didn't like the conversation had drained his. He reached for the table with a noticeably swaying hand that Kain caught easily.

"Careful," he said, "the glasses are expensive," and guided Rock to gently set the glass down on the table. He could feel Rock's pulse under his fingers, and it beat hard and fast.

As soon as the glass was down Rock snatched his hand away. "Thanks. But I coulda-" He seemed to forget what he was going to say and let himself flop back to the couch. "Whatever. We're done here, right?" Without waiting for a reply he stood up to leave.

...and promptly listed over so dangerously he had to fall right back where he had been. The shocked, angry expression was adorable. The bright flush across his cheeks was appealing.

Marie really had been a beauty. It was no wonder Geese had wanted her. Any man would. Even Kain.

Marie wasn't here, but Rock was.

What kind of man would - could - hold back?

Kain smiled and leaned over to look Rock right in the face, bracing himself with an arm on the other side and trapping Rock against the couch. "You drank too much?" he murmured. "You need to be more careful. You can't survive like that."

A fist struck his chest, but more to push him away than anything else. "Right, great, got it. I'm going to bed now, so..."

Kain wrapped his hand around the fist and held it close. "I'm not done with you yet, I'm afraid."

Rock's eyes narrowed in challenge. "I think you are."

"You really need to learn to get along better with your allies, partner." Kain whispered against Rock's hair. The soft strands fluttered against his lips, dancing with his breath. It was a pleasant sensation. "Otherwise it can be trouble."

"No thanks, creepazoid!" Something slammed into Kain's stomach and he went flying backwards. He hit the table before he hit the floor, new pain blooming each time, and somewhere to the side he heard the sound of breaking glass. Damn. What a waste.

Kain's training took over and he got his feet under him, but not before Rock stood up himself. "From now on it's hands off, got that? Mess with me any more and...and I'll walk, okay?" He took one unsteady step and pitched forward.

It was simple to grab Rock's hand and throw him to the ground. All the breath went out of him at the impact, and Kain was on top of him before he could recover. It was perhaps going too far, but Rock was strong and stubborn and there was only one way to make men like that see.

Rock's shirt was riding up again, exposing a long strip of smooth, pale skin. Kain admired it for a moment before shifting his attention back to Rock's wide, furious eyes. He'd have time to touch later.

"I'll go home. I'm serious." The boy's voice was carefully steady, but the slight shift in pitch betrayed something behind it. Fear? Absurd. Someone like Rock had no need to fear Kain.

But it wasn't time to push. Kain pulled back and settled on his knees. Right now, he needed a bit of bait. "If that's what you want," he said, "then I won't keep you here. Run and hide behind the Legendary Wolf; I'm sure he'd be happy to protect you." The wince told Kain he'd hit home. Good. He waited for Rock to scramble out from under him, and bore the careless kicks without changing his expression. It wasn't until Rock was more or less back on his feet that he put out the only scrap of bait he had. "But...my sister would be lonely."

It worked. Rock might be stubborn and willful and had entirely the wrong attitude for ruling Southtown, but at least he wasn't a coward. He twisted away, half-stumbling, but didn't run. When he spoke his voice was low and intense. "Shut up. Just...shut up. Mess with me again and I'll kick your ass."

"And ruin our partnership? You want this more than I do." Rock's shoulders stiffened, and Kain allowed himself a small smile. This was going to work out. "You can go for now. But I await your positive response."

* * *

NC-17 followup over on AO3, Chapter 4 in Round 1, F- That's Not Fighting! under screenname MarsDragon.

Anyway you don't set up a giant creepy shrine to your sister out of pure brotherly love, just sayin'.


	14. Old Heroes Team

"...and I hope that together, we can work to end this problem once and for all. Thank you."

There was a round of applause from the television set before it cut back to the newscaster, who helpfully explained what the speech the viewers had just seen was about.

"Kid's doing speeches already? Damn." Ralf turned away from the TV and took a long pull on his beer. It was already warm, and he gulped it down as fast as possible.

The King of Fighters '97 tournament was just finishing up its first rounds, and outside the official cafeteria other contestants were training hard for the next set. Inside, the Ikari Warriors sat in air-conditioned comfort with a pile of beer in front of them.

"You know him?" Athena said with surprise. She hadn't expected her two newest teammates to have that many political connections. Honestly, she wasn't too sure about this team switch-up for the latest KoF, but some higher-ups had insisted. Well, theirs was not to reason why...

"Know him? I dragged the pants-pissing little brat out of hell."

"What he means is that we got sent in to rescue the kid when he was kidnapped as part of a plot against his father in the 1988 presidential election," Clark clarified.

"Not that you'd know anything about it, since the brass decided it didn't look good that they let it happen in the first place and covered the whole damn thing up." Ralf chugged the rest of his beer, tossed the empty can to the sizable pile behind him, and grabbed another one. It was only slightly less warm than the previous. "Anyway, I stabbed his guard in the face about 30 times before the fucker went down. Kid was covered in blood by the end. Still managed to walk out of there, real trooper."

"That guy was a giant." Clark raised his own beer in salute. "I got stuck kicking all the rest of the guys in the face 'cause the brass couldn't be bothered to send us in with any equipment. We got real good at jump kicks." He took a long drink, lost in memories. "That mission started off with crashing in the jungle and Ralf wouldn't stop fucking singing Funkytown the entire goddamn time."

"It's a good song."

"You never got past the first two lines."

"Still a good song."

"That's...great," Athena said with a nervous sort of laugh. She reached out to the pile of beer and took one for a daring and experimental sip. It was, as she had expected, awful.

"Of course, that was after we were chosen by a supernatural force to invade hell itself and save the world from an army of demons," Clark added.

"I remember that! We were just heading back from saving Colonel Cook - don't know why that bastard couldn't walk out of the camp on his own, fucker's huge too - and there was this giant storm and then we were in hell. Picked up some swords and killed a lot of demons." Ralf grinned in a way he knew impressed women. "Wasn't a problem for soldiers like us, of course."

The effect of Ralf's bragging was completely lost on Athena. "Oh sure, I've done that," she said casually. "I once had to fight my way through hell just to get to a concert. Did you have to get your swords out of random rocks too? My heavenly ancestor Athena warned me when I awakened, but I didn't believe her until then." She sighed. "Kensou was there too, but he wasn't much help. He'd jump in, yell 'Okay, let's go!' and then get knocked down again. He should've stayed in the flying saucer."

There was a long pause over the table as the Ikari Warriors digested this.

"We just found the swords lying on the ground," Clark said, right before Ralf jumped in with: "Athena's the one in the bikini, right? With the big-" he made several expressive gestures around his chest "- and the-" more expressive gestures, a bit lower down "- like that? I've seen pictures, they're great. Why don't you wear a bikini?"

Athena sputtered. "That's- I- I'm not my ancestor! And she usually wears full armor, thank you very much! Be more polite!"

"Nah, it's a bikini." Ralf polished off his latest beer. "Don't get frazzled, it looks great on her. Five stars." He gave Athena a long, critical look. "Probably wouldn't look as good on a little girl like you, though. Maybe keep the schoolgirl look."

Clark agreed with sticking with the uniform while Athena glared. "I might be a little girl, but the power inside me is burning bright," she muttered. She fixed her eyes on Ralf and read his mind with grim determination. After a few moments, her face fell. "You really don't believe in right or wrong, do you."

"Nope. Just the mission." Ralf stood up and stretched. "Guess we should get some practice in while we can. Come on you two." Clark and Athena followed suit, the latter still grumbling to herself. Leaving the pile of cans behind, the trio left the cafeteria.

A few tables away, KoF's latest entrant watched them go with stars in his eyes. "Did you hear that, Mr. Kusanagi? I can't believe we get to meet such heroes here! It's a real honor!"

"If you believed that load of bullshit you're even dumber than I thought." Kyo kicked out his legs and pushed himself to his feet without taking his hands out of his pockets. "Well, whatever. I gotta go hang out with my real friends now. Later."

"Goodbye, Mr. Kusanagi! I hope to see you again soon!"

"Yeah yeah. Don't forget the curry bread, you hear? And some chips on the side!"

* * *

ARCADE JOKES

Most of the games referenced are terrible, but I'll always have a soft spot for Fantasy.


	15. KoF-ish, kid Rock and Terry

"It says you're going to fight Terry Bogard next but _you're_ Terry! How's _that_ work?" Rock piped up from the bracket board. He crossed his arms and shoved his little nose in the air as high as it would go - which wasn't all that high. "The organizers must have made a mistake. Very silly."

Terry bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing and checked the KoF bracket. Yep, Terry Bogard vs Terry Bogard. He ruffled Rock's hair and said, "Nah, just an imitator. You get them sometimes."

"An imitator?" Rock wiggled out from under his hand and looked up, curious.

"It's someone who doesn't have his own style, so he borrows mine. Kind of pathetic, really." He put a hand on his hip and started lecturing. "Listen, you gotta be yourself. Find your own style. No imitation's ever gonna beat the original. That's what it means to be a top-class fighter, all right?"

Rock frowned. "But what if he wins?"

"He's not _going_ to win. He's just a fake. A phony."

"But what if," Rock screwed up his face as far as it would go, "what if he wins? What if you get a tummyache-"

"I don't have a tummyache-"

"-or a bright light flashes in your eyes-"

"I know how to avoid the sun-"

"-or you slip on a banana peel-"

"There aren't any banana peels in the ring, Rock, don't be silly-"

"or, or tentacled aliens from Mars invade right when you're fighting him and you're too busy dodging their UFOs to dodge _him_ and he wins?" Rock finished all in a rush.

Terry gave him a long look. "There's no such thing as aliens from Mars, kid."

"Yes there are! I read it in the paper," Rock said with the absolute conviction of someone who hadn't been introduced to the concept of tabloids. "The evil terrorist attack was controlled behind the scenes by invaders from Mars and brave soldiers from the Pene- Pena- the Falcon Squad fought them off."

Terry crouched down beside the kid and sighed. "I have got to stop letting you read stuff from the checkout line," he muttered. Louder, he said, "Look, Rock, that stuff isn't real. They made it up to sell papers."

"They wouldn't let them print it if it wasn't real, and besides, they had pictures! Four soldiers-" he hurried on before Terry could point out that you could dress anyone up in a uniform "-and a tank. And a rocket launcher." He crossed his arms and glared, firm in the belief that no one would ever fake a tank.

Terry opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving up and accepting he was going to have to talk to someone else about this before Rock started telling everyone about batboys. For right now, the match was about to start. He put a hand on Rock's shoulder and said, as firm and steady as he could: "No matter what, he's not going to win. He's just a cheap copy, and I'm the original. The original always wins." Rock chewed this over for a bit, came to a conclusion that made his lip tremble, and Terry cut him off before he could say it. "And _don't worry_ , I'm definitely the original. I've got you, right? No fake can imitate that." He patted Rock's head again and got a tentative smile back.

The two-minute match warning rang.

"All right, time to show 'em what a real wolf can do!" Terry said, to Rock's cheers. He stood up, faced the ring, and froze.

On the other side his blue doppelganger was just standing up too - right next a kid in a bright yellow shirt, the spitting image of Rock.

* * *

I will never stop loving the general SNK conceit that 2P characters are just celebrity imitators.

Parents, don't let your kids read the Weekly World News. I did, and look what happened to me.


	16. Garou, Kain wins

"-from today on, Second South will be it's own nation, one where each day is a struggle! The struggle that gives life meaning!"

The cameras clicked off, and the news crew beat a hasty retreat away from the the new ruler of Second South and his set of guards. No one followed them. The small group that remained - the mayor of Second South, Kain R. Heinlein, and two large men with guns - stayed in contemplative silence.

"Well. You really did it." The mayor spoke up after a few minutes. He kept still, caught between Kain's two men, but his posture noticeably relaxed with the particular slump of someone who has been hyper-alert for the duration of a crisis that finally ended, for good or for ill.

"Of course," Kain replied, his eyes entirely on the map of the city he had laid out over the mayor's desk. "The charges on the bridges went off successfully in the middle of my speech. The police are locked down because of the hurricane. By the time the weather clears, we'll be ready and waiting for them - they don't know about the spies I have throughout the department. I've planned it out perfectly."

"Sounds like it." The mayor nodded. "So, where's tomorrow's dinner coming from?"

"Hm?" Kain looked up, confused. "Well, mine's coming from the pantry. As for yours...you'll have to see what you can take." He grinned, savage and superior. "That's the world we live in now."

"What about next week?"

"What do you mean?"

The mayor tilted his head to the side, as if considering a tricky problem. "Weeeeell... Second South is an island city. That means we don't have any farms. Not that it would matter, given it's late summer so we missed the planting season anyway. Do you know how much farmland we need to sustain our population, Kain?"

Kain blinked, narrowed his eyes, and looked away without answering.

"Between 50,000 and 150,000 acres, depending on the number of vegetarians. That's more than the size of the entire island." The men with guns started to give each other looks as the mayor continued. "Now, most of our food comes in along the train tracks...which you just bombed, and a solid chunk comes through the highways...which you also just bombed. So I'm wondering where next week's dinner is going to come from. Sure, we have some stored, but after your big speech I think you're going to have a hard time enforcing strict rationing across the entire city."

The man on the mayor's left, the one with dark hair and a nose flattened from being broken too many times, grinned. "The ocean, right? We fish!"

"In the territorial waters of the United States of America?" the mayor asked innocently.

There was a long silence as everyone in the room considered the problem.

"The US claims 12 miles of ocean off its land borders, plus an additional 200 miles as an exclusive economic zone - or in other words, no one gets to fish there but the United States of America. We're about a quarter of a mile off the mainland. If you take one step off the island the US Coast Guard can seize your ship for sailing through their waters without permission. Try to catch anything and it's considered poaching, which they can also seize. And if you get past them, well...we're less than a day from a major naval base and I'm sure they'd be very, very interested in a foreign nation _existing_ in US territory, let alone attacking a branch of the military." The mayor suddenly smiled, very sharp. "Can your gang of street thugs in speedboats take on the USS _Milwaukee_ , Kain?"

"The federal government has never cared about Southtown before-" Kain snapped before the mayor interrupted.

"I know that! God, I know that! They never even tried to go after Geese, and the support we got after we had to abandon Southtown proper..." He shook his head, throwing off bad memories. "But I can guarantee you one thing: They're sure as hell going to care about some madman trying to make his own little nation not even a mile off Florida!"

The men both looked at Kain with the expressions of followers that have felt doubt for the first time and are hoping for their leader to wipe it away. Kain looked away, looking shaken. "We...we're stronger than them. We're tougher than people that have floated through life being taken care of by society. All of us have skipped meals before."

"Kain, they have guns. And tanks. And planes. And they don't _need_ to skip meals, they have the entire agricultural production of the United States behind them. You are picking a fight with the largest and most well-equipped militaries in the world on their own ground. The only reason they're going to hold back is because as far as anyone but you is concerned, Second South is still made up of US citizens and it would look very bad if any of them got hurt." The mayor sighed. "I mean...look, do you know where Barbaroi Power Plant is? The hint's in the name. And because we're mostly on hydroelectric power it's right by the reservoir where we get our water - which, by the way, is going to run out even faster than food. Where are both of those places?"

"They're by Barbaroi Falls, _duh_ ," the man to the mayor's right, with sandy hair and tattoos on his arms, said, then realised what that meant. "Kain, sir, my mom's in the hospital! They got machines keeping her alive! If those bastards cut the power-"

"Don't worry, they probably won't." The mayor patted the sandy-haired man's arm. "Like I said, it would look very bad for them if someone like your mom got hurt in all this. But the longer this goes on, the harder it's going to be to keep the hospital going without support. Is anyone from your gang looking after it? It's full of the weak, after all..."

The sandy-haired man turned very pale, and his eyes kept flicking towards the door. Kain said, sounding very tired, "If someone wishes to protect the hospital they can, but I doubt anyone will. There's no point, and besides, those people are already struggling. That's not my philosophy."

"Tell that to some of the boys..." the dark-haired man muttered. He kept glancing towards the door too, as the sound of wind and rain rose outside.

"Well, that's good," the mayor said, ignoring the dark-haired man. "Though you should probably make that clear sooner rather than later. Oh, and while we're talking about it, what about technicians and other skilled labor? Because there're probably about five people that really understand the sewage system in the city right now, and it's going to be hell to work with after the hurricane rolls through. It would be a big problem if any of them got hurt. 'Pray sir, don't disturb my circles...' or something like that."

Kain clenched his teeth. The men looked confused at the quote, but shared between them the worried look of men who understand the subtle importance of working toilets. The dark-haired man took a half-step towards the door, then thought better of it and stayed where he was.

The mayor shrugged. "Of course, all of this is assuming you're going to face the United States instead of a street fighter coming by to topple you once the hurricane's over. Are you sure you're stronger than _everyone_ in the city?" Kain noticeably flinched, and the mayor went on. "This city does love its heroes...how long has it been since Terry Bogard's had to buy his own drinks? And the man cutting the city off from food and safety makes for a very good villain."

"Second South's citizens are _apathetic sheep_ who wouldn't lift a finger to change their lives!" Kain snarled. He pointed at the mayor, hand wreathed in blue flame. "You've seen it! They don't care! They live lives of comfort-"

"-that you're taking away," the mayor calmly finished for him. The gleam of flames reflected in his eyes. "After two or three days everyone's going to know that all they need to do to go back to their comfortable lives filled with food and booze is to take _you_ out, and afterwards they'll be rewarded with fame and fortune. The man who kills you will get a medal from the governor - maybe even the president - he'll be a media darling, surrounded by pretty girls, never have to buy his own drinks again... Hell, at that point, how much do you trust your own men?"

"I have absolute faith in those who have put their faith in me," Kain said without a hint of hesitation. He looked at the dark and sandy-haired men in turn, his hand still covered in flame. They met his eyes willingly then, but when they looked away the mayor could see dreams of glory starting to unfurl in the back of their minds.

Kain saw the same thing, and his face twisted as he dropped his hand. "I'm no coward. I'll face whoever challenges me in single combat...and we'll see who's stronger." There was a slight but noticeable emphasis on the last words that made the men with guns glance at each other nervously.

" _If_ they challenge you in single combat. A knife in the back works just as well, and it's a lot safer." The mayor smiled, slow and wide. "Even you have to sleep sometime, Kain. This is a hell of a path you've chosen...how long do you think you can walk it?"

* * *

I'm sorry, but sometimes you have to hijack a story to tell a villain his plan is _completely, absolutely moronic_ for 1500 words.

Kain is actually a very interesting character but his foresight suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.


	17. Post-Real Bout, the Jins and Alice

"This is stupid," Chonshu said to Alice as she fussed with his top. "I can't believe I let you talk me into it."

"If I recall, I didn't talk you into it," Alice replied, giving Chonshu's outfit one final tug into place. "You thought you were hot shit, made a bad bet, and then I kicked your ass because you're not as good at taekwando as you think you are. Anyway, what do you think?"

Chonshu glared at her before looking in the mirror. It was...well.

The blouse was crisp, white, and exceedingly frilly in the chest area. On top of that was a short, cropped red jacket with gold trimming Alice had in her closet for some reason, then below was the also exceedingly frilly skirt that stuck out around his waist, and finally the red thigh-high stockings to complete the ensemble. Alice stood behind him with a happy smile, clearly pleased with her efforts.

"...I can't believe I lost," Chonshu said.

Alice laughed. "You look great! Hm..." She leaned in and looked Chonshu over with calculating eyes. "Needs a hat," she declared, and shoved a wide summer hat with flowers on his head. "There! Now just come over here and I'll do your make-up."

"I can do my own make-up!" Chonshu protested as she physically dragged him to the bathroom down the hall.

"No you can't, you use too much eyeshadow."

"No such thing," he grumbled.

Alice plopped him down in front of the mirror and started dusting on foundation. "We'll go for the light, natural look," she said. "You've got the face to pull it off. Some mascara, maybe a little bit of lipstick."

"Terry Bogard is a homeless bum and smells like it too. I thought you should know that," Chonshu said as his face disappeared under paint and powder. Alice just hummed and kept going.

* * *

"Stop looking so awkward. Smile. Come on, you gotta look cute or no boys will notice you."

"I don't want boys to notice me!"

They strolled down a street in Cheongdam-dong, Alice striding ahead with her unshakable confidence, Chonshu trotting behind like a man who couldn't afford to be late for his own execution. Despite Alice's words, boys were noticing him. A young man turned his head as they passed by, watching them go with clear interest. A group of teenage punks watched them all the way down the street, whispering to themselves. Even some old businessman looked up over his newspaper as they walked past, and Chonshu was sure he was looking at him.

In other words, no one noticed. No one knew the truth. The fools really did think Jin Chonshu, descendant of heroes (turned villains), master of Imperial Fist, 1st dan of taekwando, was a cute girl. The absolute idiots.

He found himself walking a little straighter, casting his glances on passers-by like a king throwing jewels to the masses. And it worked! More men turned to look at him, not Alice. Looks slipped from interested to intrigued. If he smiled in just the right way...yes, that man would die for him. The moron. The warmth of power crackled along his spine, reveling in scraps of devotion he could so easily turn into -

"Don't want boys to notice you, huh?" Alice said with a sly smile.

Chonshu realised he'd been downright making eyes at a college student sipping tea outside a cafe and scrambled to regain his dignity. "It's about power," he said loftily. "You wouldn't understand."

Alice showed no indication of having heard him. "Hey, ice cream! I hear that place's great, wanna stop by?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." Ice cream sounded nice. He remembered a bare second before they went into the small, upscale shop. "Wait, no, I can't order!"

"Why not - oh right, your voice. Well, tell me what you want and I'll get it while you wait outside."

"Uh...I dunno, chocolate and vanilla or something." With a 'wow, boring' tossed over her shoulder, Alice headed inside. Lacking anything better to do, Chonshu settled himself leaning against the window. It was a nice, sunny day, perfect for ice cream. Chonshu watched some pigeons fight over scraps of bread and thought about nothing in particular. Chonrei was supposed to be coming by with his master tomorrow, that would be nice. Maybe they'd hike up Mt. Namsan or something, if Chonrei wasn't sick of mountains after living off in China for a couple years. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice anything amiss until a shadow fell over him.

"Hey there, missy," a sleazy looking guy said, leaning over Chonshu with a filthy smile. "Wanna get some tea with me?"

'No thanks, creep' was on the tip of his tongue before Chonshu remembered: no talking. He had no idea what would happen if he spoke up with his definitely-a-guy voice and didn't want to find out. He was pretty sure beating the shit out of regular people was evil, at least by Mr. Kim's standards, and with teacher's pet Alice just inside... No way. Too risky. He went with silently shaking his head and looking away, hoping the creep got the hint.

He didn't. "Hey, what's wrong, cutie? It's just some tea. Come on, I'll show you a good time."

This was not part of the plan. Chonshu kept ignoring the creep, doing his best to look bored and hoping Alice would finish up with her order soon. He checked inside. Nope, she was still staring at the board, because Alice was completely incapable of just picking a damn flavor. He focused his eyes on her, willing her to telepathically understand that she needed to come save him from Mr. Kim's disapproval.

"I said come on! Stop being so damn stuck-up!" The creep put his hand on Chonshu's shoulder, and that was _it_. Screw Mr. Kim's training, this guy was getting his ass kicked. Chonshu shook off the hand and stepped back, running through his list of taekwando techniques before deciding 'screw it' and going straight for the Imperial Fist. The power of his ancestors flowed through him and Chonshu brought him arm back in preparation for driving it straight into the creep's stomach.

That was as far as he got. Someone grabbed the creep and tossed him away as easily as a fly before Chonshu could unleash his power. He dropped his arm and blinked.

The creep was furious, puffing himself up and getting in the face of - wait, Chonrei?

Yep, Chonrei was standing there, looking at the creep with undisguised contempt. He spat on the ground and said, in heavily accented Korean: "Loser. Leave."

The creep gave up on life and tried to take a swing, which Chonrei blocked easily. He cracked his knuckles, and amazingly, all of a sudden, the creep found he had a better place to be. He left, ranting about nosy Chinese bastards and frigid bitches, and Chonshu couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Sure, Mr. Kim's punishment for lapses was awful...but he'd kind of been looking forward to putting a jerk in his place.

"You okay?" Chonrei said, still in barely understandable Korean. He struck a pose, closing his eyes and combing his hair up with his fingers in a desperate attempt to look cool. "He went. Okay?"

"It's 'he left', dumbass," Chonshu said in mostly-Chinese. "What are you doing? You look like a dork."

"Wha?" Chonrei stopped preening to stare. Chonshu kept going. "Why are you even here? You're not supposed to arrive until tomorrow. You'd better call ahead or there's not gonna be any food."

" _Chonshu_?" Chonrei said, face covered in disbelief.

"Of course it's me. You can't even recognize your own brother?" Chonshu rubbed his temple in frustration and ran into...a hat. A girl's hat.

Oh...right.

"Um." He matched Chonrei's stricken look with one of his own. "This isn't what it looks like, I swear!"

Alice popped out of the ice cream parlor, cones in hand. "Here you go! Oh, is that your brother? Welcome to Korea!"

* * *

"Stop laughing," Chonshu said peevishly, while eating his ice cream. They'd all sat down at one of the little outdoor tables, and now Chonrei was making a scene. "It's not funny."

Chonrei did not stop. He buried his face in his arms and laughed like he was going to die. "You- You really lost- ahahahahahah! Serves you right!"

"Use English, Alice's here," Chonshu said, less because he wanted Alice to understand and more to annoy his brother.

Alice looked back and forth between them with a wide smile. She didn't know a word of Chinese.

Chonrei finally got his laughter under control and sat up, still smiling fit to crack his face open. "Sorry about that, Alice," he said in reasonable English. "I'm Chonrei, Chonshu's older brother. Pleased to meet you."

"Older by two minutes," Chonshu clarified as the pair shook hands. "And he's not supposed to be here until tomorrow."

"Master Tung wanted to go early," Chonrei said, and snickered. "He didn't think you'd be this...not ready."

"Unprepared." Chonshu glowered. "Next time, call ahead."

"We did," Chonshu said, switching back to Chinese. "We cleared it with Kim, he knows we're coming. Guess he didn't tell _you_."

Chonshu humphed and went back to his ice cream. Alice took over. "So, how are you enjoying Seoul?" she asked, and Chonrei started going on about his sightseeing plans. Sounded like they hadn't gotten that far...which was a pickle. On one hand, Chonshu would love to show his brother around. On the other, he was still dressed up like a girl and it was way too far to go back to the dojang now. He licked at his ice cream and sulked.

"...and Master Tung saw an...um, old things shop, and he stayed there for awhile." Chonrei straightened up in his chair and looked down the street. "He should be done by now...oh! There!" He pushed his chair away from the table. "I should go see him. If he finds me with a couple girls..."

"...you're in trouble," Chonshu finished for him. He knew, he'd heard plenty about Tung's strictness from Chonrei's letters, and it sounded like he could give Mr. Kim a run for his money. Martial arts instructors were the same the world over.

Chonshu got an idea.

Before Chonrei could finish standing, Chonshu leaned over and grabbed him. "Wha- What're you doing?!" Chonrei sputtered, but Chonshu refused to be deterred. He wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders and snuggled in, practically jumping in Chonrei's lap...just as Tung ambled up the street.

"Payback, bro," he whispered, grinning wide. He'd like to see Chonrei get out of this one! Chonrei struggled and tried to push him away, but Chonshu prided himself on his tenacity and held on until Tung was right there, watching them.

Chonrei looked at him with the face of a doomed man. "Hello...master."

Chonshu smiled and cuddled up, doing his absolute best to look cute, flirty, and capable of distracting good Chinese boys from their poor old masters.

Tung nodded to all of them and spoke in perfect English. "Hello Chonrei, ladies. Well, it looks like you're enjoying yourselves."

"Hahaha! Of course!" Chonshu said in probably the fakest falsetto anyone had ever done. Chonrei glared at him out of the corner of his eye and Alice looked confused, but Tung just smiled and nodded.

"I'm glad to see it. I'll leave you to it then - Chonrei, don't forget to be at Kim's dojang by six o'clock, or you're not getting dinner. I don't tolerate lateness. Good bye." And then he bowed - Chonrei and Alice nodded back - and turned to leave.

"Master? You're just...leaving?" Chonrei said, sounding distinctly strangled.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I won't make you follow around after an old man when you've made such beautiful acquaintances. Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do when I was your age." And then he - oh god, an ancient grandpa _winked_ at them - and he was gone.

The three of them sat in silence for a long minute. Ice cream dripped on the table.

Chonrei shoved Chonshu off him. "I swear, when we get to the dojang I am going to _kick your ass_. What the hell was that?"

"Bring it!" Chonshu snapped back, scrambling to keep his ice cream and dignity intact. "Hakkyokuseiken vs taekwando, I'll show you which is stronger. You'd better be prepared!"

Alice sighed. "Boys, boys, that's fine but can we go by Apgujeong-dong first? I'm not done shopping."

* * *

A/N:

I WILL NEVER FORGET ALICE CHRYSLER

NEVER

Anyway this happened because I was playing RBS on Neo Geo CD and wondered who that cute girl that showed up in the loading screen before I fought Chonshu was.

...I know you're not going to believe me when I say I'm usually good at anime character gender detection, but I am. Really.


End file.
